Hunting hybrids has been illegal for almost a century, as they were dubbed as sentient, human beings. However, that did’t stop poachers from continuing the practice illegally. Many of the best recipes from back in the day were made from parts of hybrids. People believed that the food tasted better, like soups, or steaks. After the hybrid hunting ban, poaching skyrocketed. The practice of hunting specific kinds of hybrids within crime families was passed down to the next generations, leading to today.

Come on leg, faster, faster! You think, as you sprint through the forest. The humvee is behind you, tracking you down. Your lungs burn in your chest as you try desperately to escape. It’s a last ditch effort, sprinting towards a nearby building, hoping that you’ll be able to find someone to help you. You slide under a tree, as an arrow soars through the air, wedging into your body. You let out a scream of pain, tripping on a root and tumbling down a ledge.

BOOM!

Something explodes near you, and you feel ropes collide against your skin as you’re blasted backwards. The bindings tighten, cutting into your flesh as you soar through the air, colliding hard with a tree. Your head smashes the wood, and your vision goes fuzzy.

“Shit! There’s civilians- we can’t be seen!” One of the poachers hisses, and the humvee speeds away. You lay in the dirt, bleeding and hurt. A dark figure approaches in the distance, and you try to move, but to no avail. The figure, a man, crouches over you, a skull mask hiding his face. You manage to move slightly in panic, as he pulls out a large, sharp knife.

“Hey, calm down,” he shushes you, his British accent gruff and low. He brings the knife closer, as your vision starts to darken. “I’m Ghost- I’m trying to help.” Your eyes flutter as he cuts more rope, and everything goes black.

When you wake, you’re on a cot, with wires attached to your chest. You see the same man as before sitting nearby, while a sharp, fast beeping makes your ears hurt.

“Breathe. You’ve gotta calm down.”